


synapse

by blkpnk



Category: BLACKPINK (Band)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Drug Use, F/F, Mild Blood, One Shot, Smut, Swearing, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25830901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blkpnk/pseuds/blkpnk
Summary: Maybe this will just become a moment in time.
Relationships: Lalisa Manoban | Lisa/Reader, Park Chaeyoung | Rosé/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	synapse

**Author's Note:**

> this is your warning! this is a dive into unhealthy relationships, cheating, and doesn't have a happy ending, which is partly why this is only a one-shot. if you don't like, don't read please!

When those synapses fire, they are so swift, they can hardly be calculated. A moment in time can relay an entire memory, produce a series of emotions in complete, or jump to a conclusion in hyper speed. The brief window of time allotted between the second you saw the expression and the next second you saw hands seizing fistfuls of fabric, you wondered why you were here again. It has all happened before, and like one of those picture toys pressed to your brow, you could click the shutter to change the picture but all that really changed was the stage. It always ended the same way. It always ended with you disappointed.

“Lisa! _Stop it!_ ” you cried out in vain. Your voice was lost in the jeers of the small crowd in the kitchen. Audiences loved a good fight, whether it was deserved or not. And was it really deserved? These days, you could say more often than not, they were not warranted. That never stopped her.

Black hair cut along your girlfriend’s jawline, revealing a mischievous smile that was becoming less childish and more malicious every time you saw it. “Don’t worry, babe!”

It was always, “Don’t worry, babe!” And then later, it would be, “I’m sorry, babe.” And sometimes you could talk it out, have her promise, “It won’t happen again, babe.” But those promises never seemed to stick. They peeled off like cheap stickers from an obedience chart, and you learned to not place much faith in them.

A part of you still worried about her safety, though the record showed her walking away mostly unscathed and undisciplined. It was a tactic, in some way. Seeing a split lip with a grin devised for you — your brain and heart would be in conflict, intellect warning you about the red herring and passion urging you to kiss the blood, satiate the strange spark in your belly. After, face turned away while Lisa lied in your bed and sighed in content, you were disappointed in more than just her.

Slender fingers displayed surprising strength as they twined up the collar of the victim’s shirt. Before they could defend themselves, a powerful heave and then slam into the refrigerator knocked the air from their lungs. Kitchen oddities clambered from atop the appliance, adding to the din. While they were still stunned, gasping for oxygen, Lisa pulled back a fist from under her ribcage and hooked a punch in an uppercut that shocked their diaphragm.

A body jarred past you. The condensation of the glass bottle and the numbness in your fingertips holding the beer sent the beverage in the direction of the floor.

“Shit!”

Glass shattered into amber shards, a slice of pain felt along your calf. Hop droplets ran down to soak into your heels, but no one seemed to notice, and if they did, they didn’t care. Lisa was overpowered by two new assailants, presumably to save their fellow who sagged to the floor like a sack of flour the moment she turned her attention from them to her new opponents.

“Hey,” a voice lower than the rest interrupted. You recognized it, and damn the way your stomach involuntarily fluttered. A hand came to support you by the elbow, your body semi-bent in a poor attempt to remain balanced and assess the alcoholic damage to your leg. You looked to your side to see a shock of violet hair belonging to your best friend. Rosé. “Let’s get out of here.”

It wasn’t even a second thought. Reflex knew before those synapses could fire away, your head nodding and Rosé throwing one last glance at the scene before helping you out of the ring.

Night had fallen. The party had been in full swing for several hours now. When you looked up at the sky, you were puzzled by the lack of stars on the inky canvas. After a couple steps down the pathway, you realized it was because of an impending storm clouding the view. The density of it sat on your back, electric tingles channeling down your spine. Storms were like a liminal foreshadow. It often proceeded the change to come. This felt no different. You just wanted to be inside Rosé’s car already.

It was a short walk down the road, the curb dotted with more cars than people sober enough to drive them. There was too much else to worry about besides the concern that someone, if not multiple people, would be driving home in layers of intoxication. They weren’t just drinking in that house. You had your beer, and it came back to bite you (literally) even if you hadn’t driven to the party.

Few lights were left on this late in the evening. Early morning? You weren’t sure the last time you checked your phone. The neighbourhood was quiet, a slumbering beast composing of higher-end manors, snoring softly by the low bass that came in intervals from behind you. The music dropped away subtly the further you walked. Rosé wasn’t speaking. Her hand was on the low of your back, hovering, brushing you every couple footfalls from the irregularities in the sidewalk. It was like she was worried you couldn’t make it to the car yourself, though the cut to your calf was really not that bad, and you hadn’t enough to drink to make walking in heels difficult. It was nice. It was something that Lisa never thought to do — though your girlfriend was considerate in other ways. You couldn’t deny that. Hell, you were only thinking that because if you weren’t careful, you would cease to think about her at all and simply adore every little action Rosé did. It was a struggle that wore you down more and more everyday.

You looked sidelong at the taller girl. She wasn’t looking at you, but at the pavement. She too wore heels, equating the persistent height difference. Together, you both clicked along, the sound becoming louder than the party with the distance until it was almost unnatural to hear in the darkened street. A regular streetlamp was coming, you looking to her through your peripheral again to watch the shadows crawl over her features. An expression could be discerned there but there wasn’t enough time to analyze it. She was looking at you, and she was smiling gently. It was gone.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded more out of habit than truth. Swallowing thickly, “Just tired.”

“Right…” It was said so softly that you weren’t sure if you were meant to hear it. She didn’t say anything else but the doubt lingered in the air like the storm rolling in.

Finally, you were at her car. The daughter of lawyers, and a daughter of merit, she fished out her car key and pressed the button to unlock the Audi A7 gifted to her. They probably could have gotten her something like a Jaguar or Mercedes, but you knew the Australian to be more humble than that, and while it was still a luxurious, expensive car, it seemed to be a bit more mellow parked along the road. It wasn’t in her character to sport something flashy.

Before you could resist, Rosé took initiative and opened the passenger side door for you. Lisa was falling into the recesses of your mind. (You hoped she was okay). Instead, you bit your lip to soften the smile threatening to split your face, and dared not make eye contact with the girl smirking back at you as you ducked inside. Leather seats welcomed you, the car surreptitiously spacious. You had been in her before, many times. It sort of felt like your car in ways. It only felt more natural when Rosé finally joined you inside at the driver’s wheel, staring up the engine with a purr.

You had to ask.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?”

Rosé didn’t look at you as she turned in her seat to look behind her, gauging space to back up, then cranking her wheel. The car glided away effortlessly. “You know Lisa — of course, she will be.”

The lifeless manors passed by outside. As she weaved through the grid with practice, scattered raindrops hit the windshield.

Far away, a police siren wailed. You tried not to think about it.

“I hate leaving her like this.”

“I know, but she doesn’t seem to get mad when you do. I mean, she wouldn’t want _you_ to get hurt.”

“I know that. I just wish I didn’t have to leave her every time like this. I never… _we_ never have a good night.” You revised yourself.

Rosé glanced at you. Her left hand sat atop the steering wheel while her right arm came to rest atop the centre console. You could feel her regarding you as you looked out the window. A move you adopted to conceal your real feelings, and it applied to anyone you didn’t want knowing. You never had the best pokerface.

Silence stretched between you. Radio didn’t feel right. Then, “How is it, your leg? Does it hurt?”

You had forgotten about that, although briefly. The words brought attention to the cuts and with it, the stings to remind you that were injured. Damn the body’s receptors meant to protect you from infection before you failed to care for yourself at all. You shifted your legs in the seat, careful not to hoist up your skirt too much lest you reveal more than you… never mind.

Light clicked on, Rosé’s hand coming back to rest on the console. A beam of light provided the ability to see cat scratches on both shins, but two slices on the inside of your right calf. They were deep enough to trail blood down to your ankle, probably from all the walking and the beer easing the fluidity, but nowhere near needing medical attention. Explaining a late night hospital visit for stitches wasn’t high on your list of things you wanted to do right now.

“It’s okay,” you reported.

Rosé didn’t respond. When you looked to her, she was carefully looking at the road. Like she had almost been caught. A blush warmed your cheeks, and you took the hem of your skirt to ease it down your thighs a little more. Had she seen something? Did she… like it?

_Stop it._

“Do you have napkins or something? I just need to wipe it away,” you said, trying to patch over the tension. The storm may have followed you inside the car, or it was something else entirely.

“I have something better,” she said, finger clicking the light off, taking a direction you weren’t accustomed to. It was enough to make you look back out the window, mind struggling to picture where on a map you were going. Rosé didn’t scare you. There wasn’t a mean bone in her body. But it wasn’t exactly her nature to take spontaneous adventures in the name of getting the best care possible for a couple cuts.

You didn’t try to tend to your leg or question what your best friend was doing. Silence fell once more, and you allowed Rosé to drive to a place only she knew. It didn’t take long, though the scenery was certainly unfamiliar. In moments, she came to an old, weathered cobblestone bridge. It was the sort that trains used to pass over back roads necessary for common folk but you doubted any trains ran through this area anymore. The road was wide enough to provide the slightest of a shoulder for Rosé to park on, and granted, she kept the car on so that her head and tail lights alerted anyone who would dare come this way at this time of night. No one probably would, but Rosé was the type to be careful. You noted the rain increasing right before she came to a halt at your destination.

“Come on,” she said, unlocking the doors and stepping out. You watched as she merely moved to the back door and opened to let herself slide onto the bench. As you unbuckled, Rosé reached down to pull a conspicuous black case from underneath the driver’s seat. A First Aid kit, emblazoned with the four linked rings of Audi.

Once you were in the back seats, Rosé reached to the front door panel to click the locks back on, and then turned her body to face you. Unzipping the kit, she patted her knee, indicating she wanted your leg. The back was rather comfortable, even if you had to lean back against the door to properly lift your leg to perch your ankle on her knee. In keeping with earlier, your hands sat in your lap, weighting the skirt to prevent from opening. For some reason, you were blushing. Thankfully, she hadn’t turned the lights on. She didn’t need much more light than the glow of the car setting the ambiance.

If it wasn’t the car idling, it was thunder growling along the horizon.

As Rosé took an alcohol wipe from the kit, you were transported back into your thoughts. Thoughts like, upon watching her lean fingers ripping apart the wipe package, you remembered she was a talented pianist. Throughout your childhood together, you could reminisce the times you came to her house, her father telling you to follow the noise, and you would find Rosé in her room, hands deftly playing ivory and ebony keys to the tune of the song she sang. She was also the most incredible singer you had ever heard. Ed Sheeran, Halsey, blackbear — _none_ of them had anything on Rosé.

“What are you thinking about?”

The question broke your reverie, and your eyes darted up to hers in the dim. A smile, one that looked sly but also loving, met you. The entire time you had been thinking, she had been swiping at the two large cuts with the wipe without so much as a complaint on your end when it should have stung more than before.

“How long we’ve known each other,” you replied truthfully. And adding, “How long we’ve all known each other.”

Lisa was still a part of this, even if you were forgetting your girlfriend more and more the longer you remained with Rosé. Alone.

It always happened when you two were alone.

Rosé hummed, the smile growing bigger for just a second. Like she knew. You chewed your lip. “The worst is over.”

You tilted your head, lost for a moment. She simply raised the bloodied cloth, then pushed it back inside its insert, throwing it into the kit on the floor by her heel. Then, as if just realizing, her hands stalled on your ankle. A moment too long. You were very aware of her touch.

“Would you like me to take your heels off? They can’t be very comfortable.”

Why? Just why did that make you feel that way? There was no way she meant it in the way you were thinking about, the way your body was yearning for. A shaky, inaudible breath was sucked in through your nose. You nodded.

Without much conflict on her part, Rosé unstrapped your heel. Just the one for now. She giggled, and you frowned a little. “Do I stink?”

“Like beer,” she laughed, prying the heel from the sole of your foot. Once it was gone, you used your bare foot to kick at her stomach playfully. It pushed a louder laugh from the girl, her hands grabbing onto your leg to keep it from happening again. Instead, you hissed, and she yelped in return. Her fingers had unintentionally pressed into a cut, the fluttering of your stomach chased away by a lance of agony. It was more how sudden it was than real pain but you couldn’t help the noise if you tried.

“I’m so sorry!” she urged, the smile disappeared.

“It’s okay!” you insisted, a hand leaving your skirt to take her by the wrist. Contact was your natural language, and to imply that you were genuinely okay and not at all mad, you used your soft grasp to grab her attention and look her in the eyes. “Really, it’s okay. I’m fine. You didn’t mean it.” Rosé looked at you for a moment, then nodded. The smile returned faintly. You felt immensely better seeing it, a smile of your own forming. “And I’m sorry I reek of beer. It was sort of knocked out of my hand, in case you were wondering.”

“I saw,” the violet-haired girl supplied. “I knew Lisa wasn’t going to so—”

She stopped. Her words may have seemed biting to her but you could honestly agree with them. Still, it seemed inappropriate in her mind. You knew her too well.

“She never does,” you said. Emotion threatened to overwhelm you again, so you turned your face to look between the passenger headrest and the door, out the windshield. It should’ve surprised you more to see the rain picked up exponentially but you were protected by the lonesome bridge. The headlights fanned out into the darkness but could only reach so far.

Rosé didn’t know what to say again. And she knew you well enough to know when you looked away that she needed to give you time to think. You were similar in that regard. Heads often lost in the clouds.

Just like that, you were gone again.

Another time. You were both younger. Your hair was shorter and hers was the natural deep brown you came to know her with. It was the beginning. The beginning of your teenaged rebellion years. The beginning of the parties you found yourself attending just to people watch. The beginning of exploring your interests as you matured. The beginning.

Glass clinked together in a toast, the pair of you outside, again in the dark. A porch swing had been found behind the garden shed of the house who hosted this youngster’s rise to partying, and it swayed you into a sense of security. No one else could find you two. Wood chips scuffed underfoot. Shrieks and hollers could be heard from inside, the first of many, many beer pong tournaments blazing the way to the tradition. Rosé laughed, and you stared at her like she put the stars in the sky unlike the ones you couldn’t see… far away in the present. You had just described a vision you saw for the best possible high school career, complete with unrealistic expectations and escapades that would certainly land you and everyone involved in jail. Or lost in the forest. Depended on how you looked at it. You were imaginative, you had come to realize. To a fault. But it was okay because Rosé looked at you and had cheered you. She had said she would follow you into the unknown, like some vague quote she picked up in some book. It worked.

The laughter died away and you found your young self looking directly into her eyes. They captivated you. Held you there. Even if some part of your brain was telling you to say something, do something, that something was going to happen, it was overridden. Maybe Rosé felt it too. She had to. It was the beginning. The moment your lips touched, it had started.

“Do you still love her?”

The question was posed in such a way that you weren’t sure you had actually heard it or it had been imagined. It still brought you out of your trance. You looked at Rosé, connecting with her gaze, and knew she had asked it in reality. The smile was gone. The expression was there again but no streetlight to define it. Somehow, you knew what it was.

Apprehension. Fear. Anxiety. Hope.

You dropped the gaze and looked to where a band-aid had been strategically placed over one of the cuts. Another was poised between her fingertips like a flimsy bridge, baited by the question and awaiting the answer. Her body language spoke to you on a level you were sure she didn’t understand herself or else she would have tried to manage it better. Not seem so obvious. In that clarity, you felt eased.

“I don’t know,” you started. Cushioning it, really. You knew the answer. A shoulder lifted and then sagged in a defeated shrug. “A part of me does, maybe. But it doesn’t… feel the same anymore.” And before you could stop yourself, “I don’t feel the way I do with you.”

In that moment, you swore your heart stopped. Screeched to a halt. Short-circuited and fried your brain. You couldn’t even properly blush. Your stomach dropped away and in its place you tasted bile. No excuse came to mind. Nothing could explain what you just said.

Synapses firing. A couple seconds had passed. In your mind’s eye, the years shuttered before your eyes one after another without stopping.

The first kiss on the swing. Just friends, you both had said, hugging. Don’t be scared.

The locker room. Playful snaps of a bra strap ending with your body locked between cold metal and a warm body, mouth enveloping yours. Oops. Won’t happen again.

Lisa. Lisa’s my girlfriend. Lisa and I had sex for the first time. Rosé cried. Why was she crying? Make it stop, _oh god, please, make it stop._ It stopped when she couldn’t breathe from the kisses stealing the air from her mouth.

In the back of the taxi, on the way home from a movie. Nothing. Positively nothing triggered it. One moment you were sitting together, the next, one shared look later, you were at each other. Hands carding through hair, finding purchase in each other’s clothes, tongues in each other’s mouth. Driver be damned.

I can’t keep doing this to Lisa. She’s my girlfriend. It’s wrong. We can’t. It was agreed. And then you were on top of Rosé in her bed and the sounds she was making were like heaven. Like you had died and gone to heaven. You knew you belonged in hell.

“How do I make you feel?”

Here. Now. Alone together.

“… like I’m on fire.” Your voice cracked. You were on auto-pilot. Your brain had signed off. All that remained to man the ship was your heart.

Band-aid placed, there was no reason left for Rosé to be touching you. Except you wanted her to. So did she. Her hands didn’t leave you, but rather, began to trace up your calf. At your knee now. Fire. Everywhere. Your body was alight and hyper-fixated on each touch of her hands. She wasn’t stopping, passing your knee where a tickle shot up to your stomach. Nearing your skirt hem.

“… like I need you.” You responded to the void.

Rosé was leaning toward you. In the closing distance, you felt the heat of her body, the weight of her gaze, the build of her desire. It was going to wash over you, pull you under, and drown you. God, you wanted to drown in her. It was all you could ever think about. All you ever wanted. No matter how hard you tried not to think about it, distracting yourself, lying to yourself… to Lisa. You wanted Rosé.

Then she was there. Against your mouth. Her hands under your skirt. Your arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her down with you. The taste of her tongue, sweet with old rum and lip balm, cleaned away the bile fear had given you. Fingers scraped along your hips, taking hold of your underwear, pulling them, the elastic stretching as you lifted the only leg available to move, your band-aided leg, out of the confines. Rosé left it to dangle from your left leg, officially out of the way. Skirt shoved up around your waist. You found her own skirt, blindly searching, finding, ripping the zipper down the side, so easy and so rewarding. But she wasn’t about to part from you in order to remove her own underwear. With both hands, you took one side of her lacy underwear in your hold, pressing both thumbs into the weak threads and puncturing it. Tearing it apart. So that her underwear joined yours by falling away and left to reside forgotten on one calf.

A hand cupped the back of your neck, keeping you against her lips, bruising and ravenous on yours. The other slipped up your blouse, yanking down the cup of your bra, cradling your breast for the first time and immediately flicking her thumb over a hardened nipple. Little bouts of lightning shocked through your body, a gasp of your own filling her throat. In the background, thunder. Louder. Closer. It was drowned out by your whine as she slotted her hips between your thighs and you felt her slick on your clit. Oh god, it was good. _So_ good. Just the start and it was so _fucking_ good. You slid down the rest of the way from the door and Rosé followed you.

The angle shifted, the pressure alleviating, and you wanted to cry. Lifting your left leg, you wrapped around her waist, canting upwards.

“Ahh…!” Rosé gasped in a tone not entirely unlike pleasure. You stilled, cupping her face as your mouths parted but not by far.

“Are you okay?” you whispered against her reddened lips, foreheads together so that you couldn’t properly see her face.

“Mmm, yes, but—” a breath shuddered from her lungs and you felt yourself clench. “Your heel is digging into my back.”

You gasped out of concern, moving to remove your leg, having failed to recall you still wore one heel and the stiletto now dug into the curve of her spine— but her hand prevented you. Holding the crook of your knee, she kept you pressed to her core. By straightening upwards, her free hand pressing against the door for support, she towered over you, and your heel no longer stabbed her. But you could hardly think about that much longer when she was gazing down at you the way she was and she started bucking in earnest against your clit.

“Oh, _god…_ ”

What an obscene noise you made. Rosé liked it. The wicked curve of her lips told you and she didn’t stop. You were so wet, and it made it all the easier for her to slide along your centre, creating a pace that suited both your fervent needs. Your hands sought her out, grabbing her bare hip, the other scratching up along her ribcage under her blouse, and fuck, when she moaned at the sensation, a particularly forceful thrust rocking your core, you thought you might come right there and then.

Outside, rain fell in droves. Lightning showcased the city in the distance for but a moment, and then departed with a cacophonous thunderclap. The bridge stood stoic against the onslaught. From its depths, beams of light shone out into the curtains, and if anyone were to watch closely enough, they would wonder just what was causing them bounce the bit that they did.

Your legs shook. Your voice wavered. Your body trembled. It felt like you were a wire coiled tight and ready to snap, super heated and kinetic. A nipple pinched between your thumb and forefinger caused another beautiful cry to fall from your lover’s lips, and another grind pulsing through your heat. You ached, oh, you _ached_ so good. The leather of the seats were sure to be ruined but it didn’t seem like Rosé cared when she lifted the leg she still gripped and put it over her shoulder. You wanted to beg, but for what? Rosé was giving you everything you wanted and needed, and then more. As if to prove her point, hunching over you, and with your leg positioned as it was, lifting your hips up to her assault, she turned her head and ran her tongue along the inside top of your calf. A thrill ran the length of your figure. Then she was biting, breathing hot and heavy against your sensitive skin as she pushed on. Harder. Faster. Eyes closed and brows furrowed, the hand on the window slipping suddenly at the telltale fog that had accumulated there. It only brought her closer, burning, dripping.

“Rosé! _Please!_ ” you cried out for some reason. Closer now, you were able to circle an arm around her ribcage, nails digging into her back beneath her top. The hand not touching her, savouring her, was above your head, clutching the seat edge, keeping you in place as she fucked you.

The mere thought was incredible. To think Rosé was fucking the sense out of your skull was _incredible_.

Face turned back to you, teeth marks visible in the flesh of your leg on her shoulder, you whined at the hand that seized your jaw. Rosé kissed you like she had nothing left in life to give. And when she breathed, a gasping sound, sweat making it easier for your fingernails to rake down her side, she said, “I want you to come with me.”

To hear Rosé orgasm was like being sent to heaven when you knew you should be in hell. The volume made the throb of your clit pull you under. Drowning as your body tensed and released multiple times in rapid succession, your mouth hanging open like there wasn’t enough air to breathe in the damp car. There was nothing quite like the feeling of her come on your skin, of her hands gripping you so tight you were going to show the marks later, of listening to her moan your name in a way that made it sound like she was praying.

And then, “I love you.”

* * *

You tested your balance on your heels as you slowly stood from the car. Hopefully, your parents were still asleep and wouldn’t be around to speculate why their daughter wobbled slightly as she walked to her bedroom. If that, you could simply say you had too much to drink.

Turning, you bent a little, needing to hold the car door for support. Rosé smiled from the driver’s seat, yet to spruce herself up like you had getting out of the car. Violet hair a mess, mouth swollen, clothes disheveled. And in the backseat, you knew to be her pair of ruined underwear. Yours were still mostly in tact.

“I’ll call you tomorrow?” she asked, teeth catching her lip momentarily. You so wanted to be doing that yourself.

“I’ll be waiting,” you replied, practically giddy. You blew a kiss and then closed the door. When it appeared Rosé wasn’t about to drive away before you made it inside, you giggled and turned to walk up the path, focusing too much on how to do so without making the girl in the car any more smug than she was. Opening the door, you looked over your shoulder as you watched the Audi pull away.

* * *

A melody played mildly from your right, and you were up like a gunshot. A smile worked its way across your face before you could help it, snatching your phone from the nightstand without so much ceremony in unplugging the cord as it jumped back from its short end.

Yet, the smile died.

_Lisa 💋 calling…_

Swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat, you steeled yourself and answered. It wasn’t what you expected.

“Hey, babe.” Lisa sounded positively defeated in a way that you had never heard from her before. Dread settled like lead in your stomach, heart threatening to pop. Your voice was shaky when you spoke.

“Lisa, what’s wrong?”

A teary sigh came through the line, and you knew your girlfriend well enough to know she was barely hanging on. Lisa never liked to cry, always striving to save herself from breaking down to the very end.

“I love you, okay?”

“Lisa, you’re scaring me…”

“I, um. I messed up. I messed up _bad_ this time.” You couldn’t speak. She continued. “I can’t post bail this time.”

“What? Where are you?” You were standing, looking for clothes to put on, even if she had just said there was no saving her this time. “What can I do?”

“Nothing, babe.” Lisa was about to cry. She strangled out the last couple of words. “I’m going to juvie. I can’t see you for a while.”

You lost the ability to stand and sat back down on the side of your bed heavily.

You never could have a good night.

**Author's Note:**

> you made it? i'm so sorry. this was a practice into a different realm of writing, with full knowing of the hate this could generate because it's outside the usual works i've made. i don't think it'll become a regular thing, but it legit came to me in a nap and i had to write it. depending on the feedback, i might delete? who's to say.


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